


Amsterdam Shenanigan

by Theta8



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Third Wheel, letscreatecabinpressure, peach schnapps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theta8/pseuds/Theta8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Douglas recount how they lost track of an Arthur when he got drunk on Peach Schnapps. Written for #letscreatecabinpressure November prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amsterdam Shenanigan

Arthur groaned miserably as he woke up and decided against it. He squinted his eyes tightly shut against the daylight and buried his head in the covers. Carolyn left the glass of water on the nightstand and closed the door gently. She faced two very embarrassed men in the hallway outside the hotel room.

“Now, what exactly happened last night, boys?” Douglas and Martin exchanged guilty looks, “Well you see, Carolyn, I was helping Martin flirt with some American-” she cut him off

“I don’t want excuses, Douglas I want a clear, concise explanation as to why my pilots came back at half midnight with my son slung over their shoulders; drunk, missing half his trouser leg, a black eye, and looking for all the world like a dog who’s had a roll in a flower bed.” she ordered curtly. The both cowered before retelling the night’s escapade.

* * *

 

_8 hours previous_

“I didn’t think they had Peach Schnapps in Amsterdam.”

“Nor did I, now budge over, Martin he’s drooling on my shoulder.”

“No, I can’t have him drool on my shoulder, I’m in uniform; which by the way was your idea.”

“You’re the one who wanted to learn how to flirt.”

“Well, I’ve had my practice grunt and I’m never doing it again. Now come on help me get him out of the cab.”

 

_Earlier that evening_

“But I’m terrible at flirting, Douglas,” Martin insisted as he hung up his jacket. “I always end up talking about planes, and not even other pilots want to flirt over planes.”

“Come on, just put the jacket back on and I’ll be your wingman; so to speak.”

“Who’s going to be a wingman?” Arthur hopped into the conversation eagerly.

“I’m going to help Martin flirt.” he explained as he buttoned his own uniform over a newly pressed shirt, courtesy of a “borrowed” travel iron.

“Brilliant!”

They arrived at a small, fairly quiet bar where Arthur had pineapple juice and Martin drank half a pint to loosen him up.

* * *

 

Carolyn interrupted, “Why were you so intent on getting him a date, Douglas?”

“Several reasons, Carolyn; the first of which I won’t mention in mixed company but has to do with a gentleman’s magazine and the passenger loo,” Martin elbowed him in the side. “The others being that I thought I could get a hotel room to myself, and I wanted to be charitable and help a poor helpless young man learn how to get his money’s worth out those stripes.”

“That’s enough. Now, you were getting to the part about the Americans.”

“Ah, the American exchange students. Lovely bunch of girls. Martin had his eye on a particularly nice looking blonde.” Douglas sidestepped the foot aimed at his toes.

* * *

  
  


“Come on Martin, it’ll be easy! American girls just can resist an accent. Go, ask her what she’s doing in Amsterdam. Make small talk.”

“I don’t do small talk.”

“Fine, I’ll start out you pay close attention.” And with that he grabbed Martin by the arm and shoved him into a table of art students. Back at the front of the bar, Arthur was forgotten with his pineapple juice.

“Oh, looks like Skip’s meeting new people. I wish Douglas could be my wingman, I love meeting new people.” Arthur observed, feeling a bit left out when the bartender spoke up.

“Gone off to woo the ladies without you then?” Arthur nodded.

“Douglas is just trying to help Skip flirt, I’d just get in the way, I’m rubbish at flirting.” he frowned.

“Well that’s no fun, you know what, have a drink on the house, friend. What’s your favorite?”

“Oh! Peach Schnapps, but I’m not allowed to have it.”

“Call it a special occasion.” with that the bartender retrieved the beverage and prepared a drink, which, to any other person would be a sickeningly sweet cocktail, but to Arthur was the perfect pick-me up and the perfect temptation.

* * *

 

“Now boys,” Carolyn interrupted again, “At what point did you notice something had gone horribly wrong?”

“When Douglas pointed out the art students.” Martin grumbled.

“When Martin said the word “altimeter” in front of the art students.” Douglas teased. Carolyn glared at the both of them. Martin took the fall, “We didn’t know he’d left till the last of the art students ran away.”

“Seeing how drunk he managed to get in that space of time; you actually did a lot better than usual.” Martin wasn’t sure if he’d been complimented or not. Carolyn urged them on frustratedly.

“Anyway, by the time Martin had gotten rejected, Arthur had gotten pretty far away. The bartender gave us a bill for Martin’s pint, five peach schnapps and a pineapple juice. He said he’d gone off singing something about coconuts. We thought he’d gone back to the hotel, but this street vendor started yelling at us in Dutch when we left the bar. From what I could make out he said the man we’d come in had come out and stolen his hat. We just followed the trail of destruction from there.”

“Dear lord.” Carolyn implored the powers that be for mercy; this wouldn’t turn out well.

* * *

 

“You were supposed to keep an eye on him, Douglas!” Martin complained loudly as they jogged down the road.

“I was keeping an eye on you; I didn’t think he needed to be watched.”

“Look over there, the angry couple.”

“Mhm, good bet.” Douglas said. He interrogated a short brunette woman for a minute.

“And which way did he go after he snogged you, Miss?” she pointed and her boyfriend said something else “Oh, you too?”

“Yes, very sorry, both of you, thank you.” Martin apologized as they ran off again. “I didn’t think he liked men.” He said to Douglas.

“Normal rules don’t apply when dealing with Peach Schnapps, Martin.” They made their way down the road asking passers by if they’d seen a drunk Englishman in an orange and yellow knitted hat.

“Did the hat have a little fuzzy ball on the top, and ear flaps?” a young woman walking her dog asked.

“Yes, which way did he go?” Martin asked eagerly.

“He was riding a bicycle and singing horribly; something about a fox. Then he just started spouting gibberish.” she pointed and they continued on to the highway.

“D’you think he’s alright? This looks like a busy road.” Martin worried.

“Not at this hour, look! There’s the hat.” He picked it up from the dirt. A bit further up the road they spotted the bicycle leaning up against a wooden fence. On the other side, someone had trampled a path through the tulips.

“Leeessss all go dowwwn the straaand!”  came a tone deaf slur from somewhere in the field.

* * *

 

“Alright, I’ve heard enough. That explains the black eye I suppose, what about the torn up trousers?”

“That would be from getting caught in the bicycle gears.” Douglas provided the last piece of the puzzle.

“And when did he pass out?”

“He didn’t pass out exactly; he sort of just, fell asleep, in the cab. He woke up a little when we got him inside.” Martin explained

“Well, the damage is done. He’ll probably sleep the whole way home. Now, what have we learned from this little adventure then?”

“Not to let Douglas be your wingman.” Martin gripped. He sighed apologetically, “Not to leave Arthur alone in a bar because he drinks when he feels left out. Sorry, Carolyn.” A disheveled and sore headed Arthur walked in looking confused, “Hey, Douglas, Skip, ow. Okay. Um, I feel like there’s a dancing monkey in my head, part of my trousers are missing, and I think there are tulips in my pants. What happened last night?”

“Bloody peach schnapps!” They said in unison.  

  
  
  



End file.
